Is it necessary then seriously to criticise such abuses of language?

Yes, for very seriously are they put forth in our books and journals.

Nor can we flatter ourselves that they are the careless expressions of

uneducated writers, ignorant even of the terms of their own language.

They are current with a vast majority, and among the most distinguished

of our writers. We find them in the mouths of our d'Argouts, Dupins,

Villèles; of peers, deputies and ministers; men whose words become laws,

and whose influence might establish the most revolting Sophisms, as the

basis of the administration of their country.

A celebrated modern Philosopher has added to the categories of Aristotle

the Sophism which consists in expressing in one word a _petitio

principii_. He cites several examples, and might have added the word

_tributary_ to his nomenclature. For instance, the question is to

determine whether foreign purchases are useful or hurtful. You answer,

hurtful. And why? Because they render us _tributary_ to foreigners.

Truly here is a word, which begs the question at once.

How has this delusive figure of speech introduced itself into the

rhetoric of monopolists?

Money is _withdrawn from the country_ to satisfy the rapacity of a

victorious enemy: money is also _withdrawn from the country_ to pay for

merchandise. The analogy is established between the two cases,

calculating only the point of resemblance and abstracting that by which

they differ.

And yet it is certainly true, that the non-reimbursement in the first

case, and the reimbursement freely agreed upon in the second,

establishes between them so decided a difference, as to render it

impossible to class them under the same category. To be obliged, with a

dagger at your throat, to give a hundred francs, or to give them

willingly in order to obtain a desired object,--truly these are cases in

which we can perceive little similarity. It might just as correctly be

said, that it is a matter of indifference whether we eat our bread, or

have it thrown into the water, because in both cases it is destroyed. We

here draw a false conclusion, as in the case of the word _tribute_, by a

vicious manner of reasoning, which supposes an entire similitude between

two cases, their resemblance only being noticed and their difference

suppressed.

CONCLUSION.

All the Sophisms which I have so far combated, relate to the restrictive

policy; and some even on this subject, and those of the most remarkable,

I have, in pity to the reader, passed over: _acquired rights_;

_unsuitableness_; _exhaustion of money_, _etc._, _etc._

But Social economy is not confined within this narrow circle.

Fourierism, Saint Simonism, Commonism, agrarianism, anti-rentism,

mysticism, sentimentalism, false philanthropy, affected aspirations for

a chimerical equality and fraternity; questions relative to luxury,

wages, machinery; to the pretended tyranny of capital; to colonies,

outlets, population; to emigration, association, imposts, and loans,

have encumbered the field of Science with a crowd of parasitical

arguments,--_Sophisms_, whose rank growth calls for the spade and the

weeding-hoe.

I am perfectly sensible of the defect of my plan, or rather absence of

plan. By attacking as I do, one by one, so many incoherent Sophisms,

which clash, and then again often mingle with each other, I am conscious

that I condemn myself to a disorderly and capricious struggle, and am

exposed to perpetual repetitions.

I should certainly much prefer to state simply how things _are_, without

troubling myself to contemplate the thousand aspects under which

ignorance _supposes_ them to be.... To lay down at once the laws under

which society prospers or perishes, would be _virtually_ to destroy at

once all Sophisms. When Laplace described what, up to his time, was

known of the movements of celestial bodies, he dissipated, without even

naming them, all the astrological reveries of the Egyptians, Greeks, and

Hindoos, much more certainly than he could have done by attempting to

refute them directly, through innumerable volumes. Truth is one, and the

work which expounds it is an imposing and durable edifice. Error is

multiple, and of ephemereal nature. The work which combats it, cannot

bear in itself a principle of greatness or of durability.

But if power, and perhaps opportunity, have been wanting to me, to

enable me to proceed in the manner of Laplace and of Say, I still cannot

but believe that the mode adopted by me has also its modest usefulness.

It appears to me likewise to be well suited to the wants of the age, and

to the broken moments which it is now the habit to snatch for study.

A treatise has without doubt an incontestable superiority. But it

requires to be read, meditated, and understood. It addresses itself to

the select few. Its mission is first to fix attention, and then to

enlarge the circle of acquired knowledge.

A work which undertakes the refutation of vulgar prejudices, cannot have

so high an aim. It aspires only to clear the way for the steps of Truth;

to prepare the minds of men to receive her; to rectify public opinion,

and to snatch from unworthy hands dangerous weapons which they misuse.

It is above all, in social economy, that this hand-to-hand struggle,

this ever-reviving combat with popular errors, has a true practical

utility.

Sciences might be arranged in two categories. Those of the first class

whose application belongs only to particular professions, can be

understood only by the learned; but the most ignorant may profit by

their fruits. We may enjoy the comforts of a watch; we may be

transported by locomotives or steamboats, although knowing nothing of

mechanism and astronomy. We walk according to the laws of equilibrium,

while entirely ignorant of them.

But there are sciences whose influence upon the public is proportioned

only to the information of that public itself, and whose efficacy

consists not in the accumulated knowledge of some few learned heads, but

in that which has diffused itself into the reason of man in the

aggregate. Such are morals, hygiene, social economy, and (in countries

where men belong to themselves) political economy. Of these sciences

Bentham might above all have said: "It is better to circulate, than to

advance them." What does it profit us that a great man, even a God,

should promulgate moral laws, if the minds of men, steeped in error,

will constantly mistake vice for virtue, and virtue for vice? What does

it benefit us that Smith, Say, and, according to Mr. de St. Chamans,

political economists of _every school_, should have proclaimed the

superiority in all commercial transactions, of _liberty_ above

_restraint_, if those who make laws, and for whom laws are made, are

convinced of the contrary?

These sciences, which have very properly been named _social_, are again

peculiar in this, that they, being of common application, no one will

confess himself ignorant of them. If the object be to determine a

question in chemistry or geometry, nobody pretends to have an innate

knowledge of the science, or is ashamed to consult Mr. Thénard, or to

seek information from the pages of Legendre or Bezout. But in the social

sciences authorities are rarely acknowledged. As each individual daily

acts upon his own notions whether right or wrong, of morals, hygiene,

and economy; of politics, whether reasonable or absurd, each one thinks

he has a right to prose, comment, decide, and dictate in these matters.

Are you sick? There is not a good old woman in the country who is not

ready to tell you the cause and the remedy of your sufferings. "It is

from humors in the blood," says she, "you must be purged." But what are

these humors, or are there any humors at all? On this subject she

troubles herself but little. This good old woman comes into my mind,

whenever I hear an attempt made to account for all the maladies of the

social body, by some trivial form of words. It is superabundance of

produce, tyranny of capital, industrial plethora, or other such

nonsense, of which, it would be fortunate if we could say: _Verba et

voces prætereaque nihil_, for these are errors from which fatal

consequences follow.

From what precedes, the two following results may be deduced: 1st. That

the social sciences, more than others, necessarily abound in _Sophisms_,

because in their application, each individual consults only his own

judgment and his own instincts. 2d. That in these sciences _Sophisms_

are especially injurious, because they mislead opinion on a subject in

which opinion is power--is law.

Two kinds of books then are necessary in these sciences, those which

teach, and those which circulate; those which expound the truth, and

those which combat error.

I believe that the inherent defect of this little work, _repetition_, is

what is likely to be the cause of its principal utility. Among the

Sophisms which it has discussed, each has undoubtedly its own formula

and tendency, but all have a common root; and this is, the

_forgetfulness of the interests of men, considered as consumers_. By

showing that a thousand mistaken roads all lead to this great

_generative_ Sophism, I may perhaps teach the public to recognize, to

know, and to mistrust it, under all circumstances.

After all, I am less at forcing convictions, than at waking doubts.

I have no hope that the reader as he lays down my book will exclaim, _I

know_. My aspirations will be fully satisfied, if he can but sincerely

say, _I doubt_.

"I doubt, for I begin to fear that there may be something illusory in

the supposed blessings of scarcity." (Sophism I.)

"I am not so certain of the beneficial effect of obstacles." (Sophism

II.)

"_Effort without result_, no longer appears to me so desirable as

_result without effort_." (Sophism III.)

"I understand that the more an article has been labored upon, the more

is its _value_. But in trade, do two _equal_ values cease to be equal,

because one comes from the plough, and the other from the workshop?"

(Sophism XXI.)

"I confess that I begin to think it singular that mankind should be the

better of hindrances and obstacles, or should grow rich upon taxes; and

truly I would be relieved from some anxiety, would be really happy to

see the proof of the fact, as stated by the author of "the Sophisms,"

that there is no incompatibility between prosperity and justice, between

peace and liberty, between the extension of labor and the advance of

intelligence." (Sophisms XIV and XX.)

"Without, then, giving up entirely to arguments, which I am yet in doubt

whether to look upon as fairly reasoned, or as paradoxical, I will at

least seek enlightenment from the masters of the science."

* * * * *

I will now terminate this sketch by a last and important recapitulation.

The world is not sufficiently conscious of the influence exercised over

it by _Sophistry_.

When _might ceases to be right_, and the government of mere _strength_

is dethroned, _Sophistry_ transfers the empire to _cunning and

subtilty_. It would be difficult to determine which of the two tyrannies

is most injurious to mankind.

Men have an immoderate love for pleasure, influence, consideration,

power--in a word, for riches; and they are, by an almost unconquerable

inclination, pushed to procure these, at the expense of others.

But these _others_, who form the public, have a no less strong

inclination to keep what they have acquired; and this they will do, if

they have the _strength_ and the _knowledge_ to effect it.

Spoliation, which plays so important a part in the affairs of this

world, has then two agents; _Force_ and _Cunning_. She has also two

checks; _Courage_ and _Knowledge_.

Force applied to spoliation, furnishes the great material for the annals

of men. To retrace its history would be to present almost the entire

history of every nation: Assyrians, Babylonians, Medes, Persians,

Greeks, Romans, Goths, Franks, Huns, Turks, Arabs, Tartars, without

counting the more recent expeditions of the English in India, the French

in Africa, the Russians in Asia, etc., etc.

But among civilized nations surely the producers of riches are now

become sufficiently numerous and strong to defend themselves.

Does this mean that they are no longer robbed? They are as much so as

ever, and moreover they rob one another.

The only difference is that Spoliation has changed her agent. She acts

no longer by _Force_, but by _Cunning_.

To rob the public, it is necessary to deceive them. To deceive them, it

is necessary to persuade them that they are robbed for their own

advantage, and to induce them to accept in exchange for their property,

imaginary services, and often worse. Hence spring _Sophisms_ in all

their varieties. Then, since Force is held in check, _Sophistry_ is no

longer only an evil; it is the genius of evil, and requires a check in

its turn. This check must be the enlightenment of the public, which

must be rendered more _subtle_ than the subtle, as it is already

_stronger_ than the strong.

* * * * *

GOOD PUBLIC! I now dedicate to you this first essay; though it must be

confessed that the Preface is strangely transposed, and the Dedication a

little tardy.

PART II.

SOPHISMS OF PROTECTION.

SECOND SERIES.

"The request of Industry to the government is as modest as that of

Diogenes to Alexander: 'Stand out of my sunshine.'"--BENTHAM.

I.

NATURAL HISTORY OF SPOLIATION.

Why do I give myself up to that dry science, political economy?

The question is a proper one. All labor is so repugnant in its nature

that one has the right to ask of what use it is.

Let us examine and see.

I do not address myself to those philosophers who, if not in their own

names, at least in the name of humanity, profess to adore poverty.

I speak to those who hold wealth in esteem--and understand by this word,

not the opulence of the few, but the comfort, the well-being, the

security, the independence, the instruction, the dignity of all.

There are only two ways by which the means essential to the

preservation, the adornment and the perfection of life may be

obtained--production and spoliation. Some persons may say: "Spoliation

is an accident, a local and transient abuse, denounced by morality,

punished by the law, and unworthy the attention of political economy."

Still, however benevolent or optimistic one may be, he is compelled to

admit that spoliation is practiced on so vast a scale in this world, and

is so generally connected with all great human events, that no social

science, and, least of all, political economy, can refuse to consider

it.

I go farther. That which prevents the perfection of the social system

(at least in so far as it is capable of perfection) is the constant

effort of its members to live and prosper at the expense of each other.

So that, if spoliation did not exist, society being perfect, the social

sciences would be without an object.

I go still farther. When spoliation becomes a means of subsistence for a

body of men united by social ties, in course of time they make a law

which sanctions it, a morality which glorifies it.

It is enough to name some of the best defined forms of spoliation to

indicate the position it occupies in human affairs.

First comes war. Among savages the conqueror kills the conquered, to

obtain an uncontested, if not incontestable, right to game.

Next slavery. When man learns that he can make the earth fruitful by

labor, he makes this division with his brother: "You work and I eat."

Then comes superstition. "According as you give or refuse me that which

is yours, I will open to you the gates of heaven or of hell."

Finally, monopoly appears. Its distinguishing characteristic is to allow

the existence of the grand social law--_service for service_--while it

brings the element of force into the discussion, and thus alters the

just proportion between _service received_ and _service rendered_.

Spoliation always bears within itself the germ of its own destruction.

Very rarely the many despoil the few. In such a case the latter soon

become so reduced that they can no longer satisfy the cupidity of the

former, and spoliation ceases for want of sustenance.

Almost always the few oppress the many, and in that case spoliation is

none the less undermined, for, if it has force as an agent, as in war

and slavery, it is natural that force in the end should be on the side

of the greater number. And if deception is the agent, as with

superstition and monopoly, it is natural that the many should

ultimately become enlightened.

Another law of Providence wars against spoliation. It is this:

Spoliation not only displaces wealth, but always destroys a portion.

War annihilates values.

Slavery paralyzes the faculties.

Monopoly transfers wealth from one pocket to another, but it always

occasions the loss of a portion in the transfer.

This is an admirable law. Without it, provided the strength of

oppressors and oppressed were equal, spoliation would have no end.

A moment comes when the destruction of wealth is such that the despoiler

is poorer than he would have been if he had remained honest.

So it is with a people when a war costs more than the booty is worth;

with a master who pays more for slave labor than for free labor; with a

priesthood which has so stupefied the people and destroyed its energy

that nothing more can be gotten out of it; with a monopoly which

increases its attempts at absorption as there is less to absorb, just as

the difficulty of milking increases with the emptiness of the udder.

Monopoly is a species of the genus spoliation. It has many varieties,

among them sinecure, privilege, and restriction upon trade.

Some of the forms it assumes are simple and _naive_, like feudal rights.

Under this _regime_ the masses are despoiled, and know it.

Other forms are more complicated. Often the masses are plundered, and do

not know it. It may even happen that they believe that they owe every

thing to spoliation, not only what is left them but what is taken from

them, and what is lost in the operation. I also assert that, in the

course of time, thanks to the ingenious machinery of habit, many people

become spoilers without knowing it or wishing it. Monopolies of this

kind are begotten by fraud and nurtured by error. They vanish only

before the light.

I have said enough to indicate that political economy has a manifest

practical use. It is the torch which, unveiling deceit and dissipating

error, destroys that social disorder called spoliation. Some one, a

woman I believe, has correctly defined it as "the safety-lock upon the

property of the people."

COMMENTARY.

If this little book were destined to live three or four thousand years,

to be read and re-read, pondered and studied, phrase by phrase, word by

word, and letter by letter, from generation to generation, like a new

Koran; if it were to fill the libraries of the world with avalanches of

annotations, explanations and paraphrases, I might leave to their fate,

in their rather obscure conciseness, the thoughts which precede. But

since they need a commentary, it seems wise to me to furnish it myself.

The true and equitable law of humanity is the _free exchange of service

for service_. Spoliation consists in destroying by force or by trickery

the freedom of exchange, in order to receive a service without rendering

one.

Forcible spoliation is exercised thus: Wait till a man has produced

something; then take it from him by violence.

It is solemnly condemned by the Decalogue: _Thou shalt not steal._

When practiced by one individual on another, it is called robbery, and

leads to the prison; when practiced among nations, it takes the name of

conquest, and leads to glory.

Why this difference? It is worth while to search for the cause. It will

reveal to us an irresistible power, public opinion, which, like the

atmosphere, envelopes us so completely that we do not notice it.

Rousseau never said a truer thing than this: "A great deal of philosophy

is needed to understand the facts which are very near to us."

The robber, for the reason that he acts alone, has public opinion

against him. He terrifies all who are about him. Yet, if he has

companions, he plumes himself before them on his exploits, and here we

may begin to notice the power of public opinion, for the approbation of

his band serves to obliterate all consciousness of his turpitude, and

even to make him proud of it. The warrior lives in a different

atmosphere. The public opinion which would rebuke him is among the

vanquished. He does not feel its influence. But the opinion of those by

whom he is surrounded approves his acts and sustains him. He and his

comrades are vividly conscious of the common interest which unites them.

The country which has created enemies and dangers, needs to stimulate

the courage of its children. To the most daring, to those who have

enlarged the frontiers, and gathered the spoils of war, are given

honors, reputation, glory. Poets sing their exploits. Fair women weave

garlands for them. And such is the power of public opinion that it

separates the idea of injustice from spoliation, and even rids the

despoiler of the consciousness of his wrong-doing.

The public opinion which reacts against military spoliation, (as it

exists among the conquered and not among the conquering people), has

very little influence. But it is not entirely powerless. It gains in

strength as nations come together and understand one another better.

Thus, it can be seen that the study of languages and the free

communication of peoples tend to bring about the supremacy of an opinion

opposed to this sort of spoliation.

Unfortunately, it often happens that the nations adjacent to a

plundering people are themselves spoilers when opportunity offers, and

hence are imbued with the same prejudices.

Then there is only one remedy--time. It is necessary that nations learn

by harsh experience the enormous disadvantage of despoiling each other.

You say there is another restraint--moral influences. But moral

influences have for their object the increase of virtuous actions. How

can they restrain these acts of spoliation when these very acts are

raised by public opinion to the level of the highest virtues? Is there a

more potent moral influence than religion? Has there ever been a

religion more favorable to peace or more universally received than

Christianity? And yet what has been witnessed during eighteen centuries?

Men have gone out to battle, not merely in spite of religion, but in the

very name of religion.

A conquering nation does not always wage offensive war. Its soldiers are

obliged to protect the hearthstones, the property, the families, the

independence and liberty of their native land. At such a time war

assumes a character of sanctity and grandeur. The flag, blessed by the

ministers of the God of Peace, represents all that is sacred on earth;

the people rally to it as the living image of their country and their

honor; the warlike virtues are exalted above all others. When the danger

is over, the opinion remains, and by a natural reaction of that spirit

of vengeance which confounds itself with patriotism, they love to bear

the cherished flag from capital to capital. It seems that nature has

thus prepared the punishment of the aggressor.

It is the fear of this punishment, and not the progress of philosophy,

which keeps arms in the arsenals, for it cannot be denied that those

people who are most advanced in civilization make war, and bother

themselves very little with justice when they have no reprisals to fear.

Witness the Himalayas, the Atlas, and the Caucasus.

If religion has been impotent, if philosophy is powerless, how is war to

cease?

Political economy demonstrates that even if the victors alone are

considered, war is always begun in the interest of the few, and at the

expense of the many. All that is needed, then, is that the masses should

clearly perceive this truth. The weight of public opinion, which is yet

divided, would then be cast entirely on the side of peace.

Forcible spoliation also takes another form. Without waiting for a man

to produce something in order to rob him, they take possession of the

man himself, deprive him of his freedom, and force him to work. They do

not say to him, "If you will do this for me, I will do that for you,"

but they say to him, "You take all the troubles; we all the enjoyments."

This is slavery.

Now it is important to inquire whether it is not in the nature of

uncontrolled power always to abuse itself.

For my part I have no doubt of it, and should as soon expect to see the

power that could arrest a stone in falling proceed from the stone

itself, as to trust force within any defined limits.

I should like to be shown a country where slavery has been abolished by

the voluntary action of the masters.

Slavery furnishes a second striking example of the impotence of

philosophical and religious sentiments in a conflict with the energetic

activity of self-interest.

This may seem sad to some modern schools which seek the reformation of

society in self-denial. Let them begin by reforming the nature of man.

In the Antilles the masters, from father to son, have, since slavery was

established, professed the Christian religion. Many times a day they

repeat these words: "All men are brothers. Love thy neighbor as thyself;

in this are the law and the prophets fulfilled." Yet they hold slaves,

and nothing seems to them more legitimate or natural. Do modern

reformers hope that their moral creed will ever be as universally

accepted, as popular, as authoritative, or as often on all lips as the

Gospel? If _that_ has not passed from the lips to the heart, over or

through the great barrier of self-interest, how can they hope that their

system will work this miracle?

Well, then, is slavery invulnerable? No; self-interest, which founded

it, will one day destroy it, provided the special interests which have

created it do not stifle those general interests which tend to overthrow

it.

Another truth demonstrated by political economy is, that free labor is

progressive, and slave labor stationary. Hence the triumph of the first

over the second is inevitable. What has become of the cultivation of

indigo by the blacks?

Free labor, applied to the production of sugar, is constantly causing a

reduction in the price. Slave property is becoming proportionately less

valuable to the master. Slavery will soon die out in America unless the

price of sugar is artificially raised by legislation. Accordingly we see

to-day the masters, their creditors and representatives, making vigorous

efforts to maintain these laws, which are the pillars of the edifice.

Unfortunately they still have the sympathy of people among whom slavery

has disappeared, from which circumstance the sovereignty of public

opinion may again be observed. If public opinion is sovereign in the

domain of force, it is much more so in the domain of fraud. Fraud is its

proper sphere. Stratagem is the abuse of intelligence. Imposture on the

part of the despoiler implies credulity on the part of the despoiled,

and the natural antidote of credulity is truth. It follows that to

enlighten the mind is to deprive this species of spoliation of its

support.

I will briefly pass in review a few of the different kinds of spoliation

which are practiced on an exceedingly large scale. The first which

presents itself is spoliation through the avenue of superstition. In

what does it consist? In the exchange of food, clothing, luxury,

distinction, influence, power--substantial services for fictitious

services. If I tell a man: "I will render you an immediate service," I

am obliged to keep my word, or he would soon know what to depend upon,

and my trickery would be unmasked.

But if I should tell him, "In exchange for your services I will do you

immense service, not in this world but in another; after this life you

may be eternally happy or miserable, and that happiness or misery

depends upon me; I am a vicar between God and man, and can open to you

the gates of heaven or of hell;" if that man believes me he is at my

mercy.

This method of imposture has been very extensively practiced since the

beginning of the world, and it is well known to what omnipotence the

Egyptian priests attained by such means.

It is easy to see how impostors proceed. It is enough to ask one's self

what he would do in their place.

If I, entertaining views of this kind, had arrived in the midst of an

ignorant population, and were to succeed by some extraordinary act or

marvelous appearance in passing myself off as a supernatural being, I

would claim to be a messenger from God, having an absolute control over

the future destinies of men.

Then I would forbid all examination of my claims. I would go still

further, and, as reason would be my most dangerous enemy, I would

interdict the use of reason--at least as applied to this dangerous

subject. I would _taboo_, as the savages say, this question, and all

those connected with it. To agitate them, discuss them, or even think of

them, should be an unpardonable crime.

Certainly it would be the acme of art thus to put the barrier of the

_taboo_ upon all intellectual avenues which might lead to the discovery

of my imposture. What better guarantee of its perpetuity than to make

even doubt sacrilege?

However, I would add accessory guarantees to this fundamental one. For

instance, in order that knowledge might never be disseminated among the

masses, I would appropriate to myself and my accomplices the monopoly of

the sciences. I would hide them under the veil of a dead language and

hieroglyphic writing; and, in order that no danger might take me

unawares, I would be careful to invent some ceremony which day by day

would give me access to the privacy of all consciences.

It would not be amiss for me to supply some of the real wants of my

people, especially if by doing so I could add to my influence and

authority. For instance, men need education and moral teaching, and I

would be the source of both. Thus I would guide as I pleased the minds

and hearts of my people. I would join morality to my authority by an

indissoluble chain, and I would proclaim that one could not exist

without the other, so that if any audacious individual attempted to

meddle with a _tabooed_ question, society, which cannot exist without

morality, would feel the very earth tremble under its feet, and would

turn its wrath upon the rash innovator.

When things have come to this pass, it is plain that these people are

more mine than if they were my slaves. The slave curses his chain, but

my people will bless theirs, and I shall succeed in stamping, not on

their foreheads, but in the very centre of their consciences, the seal

of slavery.

Public opinion alone can overturn such a structure of iniquity; but

where can it begin, if each stone is _tabooed_? It is the work of time

and the printing press.

God forbid that I should seek to disturb those consoling beliefs which

link this life of sorrows to a life of felicity. But, that the

irresistible longing which attracts us toward religion has been abused,

no one, not even the Head of Christianity, can deny. There is, it seems

to me, one sign by which you can know whether the people are or are not

dupes. Examine religion and the priest, and see whether the priest is

the instrument of religion, or religion the instrument of the priest.

If the priest is the instrument of religion, if his only thought is to

disseminate its morality and its benefits on the earth, he will be

gentle, tolerant, humble, charitable, and full of zeal; his life will

reflect that of his divine model; he will preach liberty and equality

among men, and peace and fraternity among nations; he will repel the

allurements of temporal power, and will not ally himself with that

which, of all things in this world, has the most need of restraint; he

will be the man of the people, the man of good advice and tender

consolations, the man of public opinion, the man of the Evangelist.

If, on the contrary, religion is the instrument of the priest, he will

treat it as one does an instrument which is changed, bent and twisted in

all ways so as to get out of it the greatest possible advantage for

one's self. He will multiply _tabooed_ questions; his morality will be

as flexible as seasons, men, and circumstances. He will seek to impose

on humanity by gesticulations and studied attitudes; an hundred times a

day he will mumble over words whose sense has evaporated and which have

become empty conventionalities. He will traffic in holy things, but just

enough not to shake faith in their sanctity, and he will take care that

the more intelligent the people are, the less open shall the traffic be.

He will take part in the intrigues of the world, and he will always

side with the powerful, on the simple condition that they side with him.

In a word, it will be easy to see in all his actions that he does not

desire to advance religion by the clergy, but the clergy by religion,

and as so many efforts indicate an object, and as this object, according

to the hypothesis, can be only power and wealth, the decisive proof that

the people are dupes is when the priest is rich and powerful.

It is very plain that a true religion can be abused as well as a false

one. The higher its authority the greater the fear that it may be

severely tested. But there is much difference in the results. Abuse

always stirs up to revolt the sound, enlightened, intelligent portion of

a people. This inevitably weakens faith, and the weakening of a true

religion is far more lamentable than of a false one. This kind of

spoliation, and popular enlightenment, are always in an inverse ratio to

one another, for it is in the nature of abuses to go as far as possible.

Not that pure and devoted priests cannot be found in the midst of the

most ignorant population, but how can the knave be prevented from

donning the cassock and nursing the ambitious hope of wearing the mitre?

Despoilers obey the Malthusian law; they multiply with the means of

existence, and the means of existence of knaves is the credulity of

their dupes. Turn whichever way you please, you always find the need of

an enlightened public opinion. There is no other cure-all.

Another species of spoliation is _commercial fraud_, a term which seems

to me too limited because the tradesman who changes his weights and

measures is not alone culpable, but also the physician who receives a

fee for evil counsel, the lawyer who provokes litigation, etc. In the

exchange of two services one may be of less value than the other, but

when the service received is that which has been agreed upon, it is

evident that spoliation of that nature will diminish with the increase

of public intelligence.

The next in order is the abuse in the _public service_--an immense field

of spoliation, so immense that we can give it but partial consideration.

If God had made man a solitary animal, every one would labor for

himself. Individual wealth would be in proportion to the services each

one rendered to himself. But since _man is a social animal, one service

is exchanged for another_. A proposition which you can transpose if it

suits you.

In society there are certain requirements so general, so universal in

their nature, that provision has been made for them in the organizing of

the public service. Among these is the necessity of security. Society

agrees to compensate in services of a different nature those who render

it the service of guarding the public safety. In this there is nothing

contrary to the principles of political economy. _Do this for me, I will

do that for you._ The principle of the transaction is the same, although

the process is different, but the circumstance has great significance.

In private transactions each individual remains the judge both of the

service which he renders and of that which he receives. He can always

decline an exchange, or negotiate elsewhere. There is no necessity of an

interchange of services, except by previous voluntary agreement. Such is

not the case with the State, especially before the establishment of

representative government. Whether or not we require its services,

whether they are good or bad, we are obliged to accept such as are

offered and to pay the price.

It is the tendency of all men to magnify their own services and to

disparage services rendered them, and private matters would be poorly

regulated if there was not some standard of value. This guarantee we

have not, (or we hardly have it,) in public affairs. But still society,

composed of men, however strongly the contrary may be insinuated, obeys

the universal tendency. The government wishes to serve us a great deal,

much more than we desire, and forces us to acknowledge as a real service

that which sometimes is widely different, and this is done for the

purpose of demanding contributions from us in return.

The State is also subject to the law of Malthus. It is continually

living beyond its means, it increases in proportion to its means, and

draws its support solely, from the substance of the people. Woe to the

people who are incapable of limiting the sphere of action of the State.

Liberty, private activity, riches, well-being, independence, dignity,

depend upon this.

There is one circumstance which must be noticed: Chief among the

services which we ask of the State is _security_. That it may guarantee

this to us it must control a force capable of overcoming all individual

or collective domestic or foreign forces which might endanger it.

Combined with that fatal disposition among men to live at the expense of

each other, which we have before noticed, this fact suggests a danger

patent to all.

You will accordingly observe on what an immense scale spoliation, by the

abuses and excesses of the government, has been practiced.

If one should ask what service has been rendered the public, and what

return has been made therefor, by such governments as Assyria, Babylon,

Egypt, Rome, Persia, Turkey, China, Russia, England, Spain and France,

he would be astonished at the enormous disparity.

At last representative government was invented, and, _a priori_, one

might have believed that the disorder would have ceased as if by

enchantment.

The principle of these governments is this:

"The people themselves, by their representatives, shall decide as to the

nature and extent of the public service and the remuneration for those

services."

The tendency to appropriate the property of another, and the desire to

defend one's own, are thus brought in contact. One might suppose that

the latter would overcome the former. Assuredly I am convinced that the

latter will finally prevail, but we must concede that thus far it has

not.

Why? For a very simple reason. Governments have had too much sagacity;

people too little.

Governments are skillful. They act methodically, consecutively, on a

well concerted plan, which is constantly improved by tradition and

experience. They study men and their passions. If they perceive, for

instance, that they have warlike instincts, they incite and inflame this

fatal propensity. They surround the nation with dangers through the

conduct of diplomats, and then naturally ask for soldiers, sailors,

arsenals and fortifications. Often they have but the trouble of

accepting them. Then they have pensions, places, and promotions to

offer. All this calls for money. Hence loans and taxes.

If the nation is generous, the government proposes to cure all the ills

of humanity. It promises to increase commerce, to make agriculture

prosperous, to develop manufactures, to encourage letters and arts, to

banish misery, etc. All that is necessary is to create offices and to

pay public functionaries.

In other words, their tactics consist in presenting as actual services

things which are but hindrances; then the nation pays, not for being

served, but for being subservient. Governments assuming gigantic

proportions end by absorbing half of all the revenues. The people are

astonished that while marvelous labor-saving inventions, destined to

infinitely multiply productions, are ever increasing in number, they are

obliged to toil on as painfully as ever, and remain as poor as before.

This happens because, while the government manifests so much ability,

the people show so little. Thus, when they are called upon to choose

their agents, those who are to determine the sphere of, and compensation

for, governmental action, whom do they choose? The agents of the

government. They entrust the executive power with the determination of

the limit of its activity and its requirements. They are like the

_Bourgeois Gentilhomme_, who referred the selection and number of his

suits of clothes to his tailor.

However, things go from bad to worse, and at last the people open their

eyes, not to the remedy, for there is none as yet, but to the evil.

Governing is so pleasant a trade that everybody desires to engage in it.

Thus the advisers of the people do not cease to say: "We see your

sufferings, and we weep over them. It would be otherwise if _we_

governed you."

This period, which usually lasts for some time, is one of rebellions and

insurrections. When the people are conquered, the expenses of the war

are added to their burdens. When they conquer, there is a change of

those who govern, and the abuses remain.

This lasts until the people learn to know and defend their true

interests. Thus we always come back to this: there is no remedy but in

the progress of public intelligence.

Certain nations seem remarkably inclined to become the prey of

governmental spoliation. They are those where men, not considering their

own dignity and energy, would believe themselves lost, if they were not

governed and administered upon in all things. Without having traveled

much, I have seen countries where they think agriculture can make no

progress unless the State keeps up experimental farms; that there will

presently be no horses if the State has no stables; and that fathers

will not have their children educated, or will teach them only

immoralities, if the State does not decide what it is proper to learn.

In such a country revolutions may rapidly succeed one another, and one

set of rulers after another be overturned. But the governed are none the

less governed at the caprice and mercy of their rulers, until the

people see that it is better to leave the greatest possible number of

services in the category of those which the parties interested exchange

after a fair discussion of the price.

We have seen that society is an exchange of services, and should be but

an exchange of good and honest ones. But we have also proven that men

have a great interest in exaggerating the relative value of the services

they render one another. I cannot, indeed, see any other limit to these

claims than the free acceptance or free refusal of those to whom these

services are offered.

Hence it comes that certain men resort to the law to curtail the natural

prerogatives of this liberty. This kind of spoliation is called

privilege or monopoly. We will carefully indicate its origin and

character.

Every one knows that the services which he offers in the general market

are the more valued and better paid for, the scarcer they are. Each one,

then, will ask for the enactment of a law to keep out of the market all

who offer services similar to his.

This variety of spoliation being the chief subject of this volume, I

will say little of it here, and will restrict myself to one remark:

When the monopoly is an isolated fact, it never fails to enrich the

person to whom the law has granted it. It may then happen that each

class of workmen, instead of seeking the overthrow of this monopoly,

claim a similar one for themselves. This kind of spoliation, thus

reduced to a system, becomes then the most ridiculous of mystifications

for every one, and the definite result is that each one believes that he

gains more from a general market impoverished by all.

It is not necessary to add that this singular _regime_ also brings about

an universal antagonism between all classes, all professions, and all

peoples; that it requires the constant but always uncertain interference

of government; that it swarms with the abuses which have been the

subject of the preceding paragraph; that it places all industrial

pursuits in hopeless insecurity; and that it accustoms men to place upon

the law, and not upon themselves, the responsibility for their very

existence. It would be difficult to imagine a more active cause of

social disturbance.

JUSTIFICATION.

It may be asked, "Why this ugly word--spoliation? It is not only coarse,

but it wounds and irritates; it turns calm and moderate men against you,

and embitters the controversy."

I earnestly declare that I respect individuals; I believe in the

sincerity of almost all the friends of Protection, and I do not claim

that I have any right to suspect the personal honesty, delicacy of

feeling, or philanthropy of any one. I also repeat that Protection is

the work, the fatal work, of a common error, of which all, or nearly

all, are at once victims and accomplices. But I cannot prevent things

being what they are.

Just imagine some Diogenes putting his head out of his tub and saying,

"Athenians, you are served by slaves. Have you never thought that you

practice on your brothers the most iniquitous spoliation?" Or a tribune

speaking in the forum, "Romans! you have laid the foundation of all your

greatness on the pillage of other nations."

They would state only undeniable truths. But must we conclude from this

that Athens and Rome were inhabited only by dishonest persons? that

Socrates and Plato, Cato and Cincinnatus were despicable characters?

Who could harbor such a thought? But these great men lived amidst

surroundings that relieved their consciences of the sense of this

injustice. Even Aristotle could not conceive the idea of a society

existing without slavery. In modern times slavery has continued to our

own day without causing many scruples among the planters. Armies have

served as the instruments of grand conquests--that is to say, of grand

spoliations. Is this saying that they are not composed of officers and

men as sensitive of their honor, even more so, perhaps, than men in

ordinary industrial pursuits--men who would blush at the very thought

of theft, and who would face a thousand deaths rather than stoop to a

base action?

It is not individuals who are to blame, but the general movement of

opinion which deludes and deceives them--a movement for which society in

general is culpable.

Thus is it with monopoly. I accuse the system, and not individuals;

society as a mass, and not this or that one of its members. If the

greatest philosophers have been able to deceive themselves as to the

iniquity of slavery, how much easier is it for farmers and manufacturers

to deceive themselves as to the nature and effects of the protective

system.

II.

TWO SYSTEMS OF MORALS.

Arrived at the end of the preceding chapter, if he gets so far, I

imagine I hear the reader say:

"Well, now, was I wrong in accusing political economists of being dry

and cold? What a picture of humanity! Spoliation is a fatal power,

almost normal, assuming every form, practiced under every pretext,

against law and according to law, abusing the most sacred things,

alternately playing upon the feebleness and the credulity of the

masses, and ever growing by what it feeds on. Could a more mournful

picture of the world be imagined than this?"

The problem is, not to find whether the picture is mournful, but whether

it is true. And for that we have the testimony of history.

It is singular that those who decry political economy, because it

investigates men and the world as it finds them, are more gloomy than

political economy itself, at least as regards the past and the present.

Look into their books and their journals. What do you find? Bitterness

and hatred of society. The very word _civilization_ is for them a

synonym for injustice, disorder and anarchy. They have even come to

curse _liberty_, so little confidence have they in the development of

the human race, the result of its natural organization. Liberty,

according to them, is something which will bring humanity nearer and

nearer to destruction.

It is true that they are optimists as regards the future. For, although

humanity, in itself incapable, for six thousand years has gone astray, a

revelation has come, which has pointed out to men the way of safety,

and, if the flock are docile and obedient to the shepherd's call, will

lead them to the promised land, where well-being may be attained without

effort, where order, security and prosperity are the easy reward of

improvidence.

To this end humanity, as Rousseau said, has only to allow these

reformers to change the physical and moral constitution of man.

Political economy has not taken upon itself the mission of finding out

the probable condition of society had it pleased God to make men

different from what they are. It may be unfortunate that Providence, at

the beginning, neglected to call to his counsels a few of our modern

reformers. And, as the celestial mechanism would have been entirely

different had the Creator consulted _Alphonso the Wise_, society, also,

had He not neglected the advice of Fourier, would have been very

different from that in which we are compelled to live, and move, and

breathe. But, since we are here, our duty is to study and to understand

His laws, especially if the amelioration of our condition essentially

depends upon such knowledge.

We cannot prevent the existence of unsatisfied desires in the hearts of

men.

We cannot satisfy these desires except by labor.

We cannot deny the fact that man has as much repugnance for labor as he

has satisfaction with its results.

Since man has such characteristics, we cannot prevent the existence of a

constant tendency among men to obtain their part of the enjoyments of

life while throwing upon others, by force or by trickery, the burdens of

labor. It is not for us to belie universal history, to silence the

voice of the past, which attests that this has been the condition of

things since the beginning of the world. We cannot deny that war,

slavery, superstition, the abuses of government, privileges, frauds of

every nature, and monopolies, have been the incontestable and terrible

manifestations of these two sentiments united in the heart of man:

_desire for enjoyment; repugnance to labor_.

"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread!" But every one wants as

much bread and as little sweat as possible. This is the conclusion of

history.

Thank Heaven, history also teaches that the division of blessings and

burdens tends to a more exact equality among men. Unless one is prepared

to deny the light of the sun, it must be admitted that, in this respect

at least, society has made some progress.

If this be true, there exists in society a natural and providential

force, a law which causes iniquity gradually to cease, and makes justice

more and more a reality.

We say that this force exists in society, and that God has placed it

there. If it did not exist we should be compelled, with the socialists,

to search for it in those artificial means, in those arrangements which

require a fundamental change in the physical and moral constitution of

man, or rather we should consider that search idle and vain, for the

reason that we could not comprehend the action of a lever without a

place of support.

Let us, then, endeavor to indicate that beneficent force which tends

progressively to overcome the maleficent force to which we have given

the name spoliation, and the existence of which is only too well

explained by reason and proved by experience.

Every maleficent act necessarily has two terms--the point of beginning

and the point of ending; the man who performs the act and the man upon

whom it is performed; or, in the language of the schools, the active and

the passive agent. There are, then, two means by which the maleficent

act can be prevented: by the voluntary absence of the active, or by the

resistance of the passive agent. Whence two systems of morals arise, not

antagonistic but concurrent; religious or philosophical morality, and

the morality to which I permit myself to apply the name economical

(utilitarian).

Religious morality, to abolish and extirpate the maleficent act, appeals

to its author, to man in his capacity of active agent. It says to him:

"Reform yourself; purify yourself; cease to do evil; learn to do well;

conquer your passions; sacrifice your interests; do not oppress your

neighbor, to succor and relieve whom is your duty; be first just, then

generous." This morality will always be the most beautiful, the most

touching, that which will exhibit the human race in all its majesty;

which will the best lend itself to the offices of eloquence, and will

most excite the sympathy and admiration of mankind.

Utilitarian morality works to the same end, but especially addresses

itself to man in his capacity of passive agent. It points out to him the

consequences of human actions, and, by this simple exhibition,

stimulates him to struggle against those which injure, and to honor

those which are useful to him. It aims to extend among the oppressed

masses enough good sense, enlightenment and just defiance, to render

oppression both difficult and dangerous.

It may also be remarked that utilitarian morality is not without its

influence upon the oppressor. An act of spoliation causes good and

evil--evil for him who suffers it, good for him in whose favor it is

exercised--else the act would not have been performed. But the good by

no means compensates the evil. The evil always, and necessarily,

predominates over the good, because the very fact of oppression

occasions a loss of force, creates dangers, provokes reprisals, and

requires costly precautions. The simple exhibition of these effects is

not then limited to retaliation of the oppressed; it places all, whose

hearts are not perverted, on the side of justice, and alarms the

security of the oppressors themselves.

But it is easy to understand that this morality which is simply a

scientific demonstration, and would even lose its efficiency if it

changed its character; which addresses itself not to the heart but to

the intelligence; which seeks not to persuade but to convince; which

gives proofs not counsels; whose mission is not to move but to

enlighten, and which obtains over vice no other victory than to deprive

it of its booty--it is easy to understand, I say, how this morality has

been accused of being dry and prosaic. The reproach is true without

being just. It is equivalent to saying that political economy is not

everything, does not comprehend everything, is not the universal

solvent. But who has ever made such an exorbitant pretension in its

name? The accusation would not be well founded unless political economy

presented its processes as final, and denied to philosophy and religion

the use of their direct and proper means of elevating humanity. Look at

the concurrent action of morality, properly so called, and of political

economy--the one inveighing against spoliation by an exposure of its

moral ugliness, the other bringing it into discredit in our judgment, by

showing its evil consequences. Concede that the triumph of the religious

moralist, when realized, is more beautiful, more consoling and more

radical; at the same time it is not easy to deny that the triumph of

economical science is more facile and more certain.

In a few lines, more valuable than many volumes, J.B. Say has already

remarked that there are two ways of removing the disorder introduced by

hypocrisy into an honorable family; to reform Tartuffe, or sharpen the

wits of Orgon. Moliere, that great painter of human life, seems

constantly to have had in view the second process as the more efficient.

Such is the case on the world's stage. Tell me what Cæsar did, and I

will tell you what were the Romans of his day.

Tell me what modern diplomacy has accomplished, and I will describe the

moral condition of the nations.

We should not pay two milliards of taxes if we did not appoint those who

consume them to vote them.

We should not have so much trouble, difficulty and expense with the

African question if we were as well convinced that two and two make four

in political economy as in arithmetic.

M. Guizot would never have had occasion to say: "France is rich enough

to pay for her glory," if France had never conceived a false idea of

glory.

The same statesman never would have said: "_Liberty is too precious for

France to traffic in it_," if France had well understood that _liberty_

and a _large budget_ are incompatible.

Let religious morality then, if it can, touch the heart of the

Tartuffes, the Cæsars, the conquerors of Algeria, the sinecurists, the

monopolists, etc. The mission of political economy is to enlighten their

dupes. Of these two processes, which is the more efficient aid to social

progress? I believe it is the second. I believe that humanity cannot

escape the necessity of first learning a _defensive morality_. I have

read, observed, and made diligent inquiry, and have been unable to find

any abuse, practiced to any considerable extent, that has perished by

voluntary renunciation on the part of those who profited by it. On the

contrary, I have seen many that have yielded to the manly resistance of

those who suffered by them.

To describe the consequences of abuses, is the most efficient way of

destroying the abuses themselves. And this is true particularly in

regard to abuses which, like the protective system, while inflicting

real evil upon the masses, are to those who seem to profit by them only

an illusion and a deception.

Well, then, does this species of morality realize all the social

perfection which the sympathetic nature of the human heart and its

noblest faculties cause us to hope for? This I by no means pretend.

Admit the general diffusion of this defensive morality--which, after

all, is only a knowledge that the best understood interests are in

accord with general utility and justice. A society, although very well

regulated, might not be very attractive, where there were no knaves,

only because there were no fools; where vice, always latent, and, so to

speak, overcome by famine, would only stand in need of available plunder

in order to be restored to vigor; where the prudence of the individual

would be guarded by the vigilance of the mass, and, finally, where

reforms, regulating external acts, would not have penetrated to the

consciences of men. Such a state of society we sometimes see typified in

one of those exact, rigorous and just men who is ever ready to resent

the slightest infringement of his rights, and shrewd in avoiding

impositions. You esteem him--possibly you admire him. You may make him

your deputy, but you would not necessarily choose him for a friend.

Let, then, the two moral systems, instead of criminating each other, act

in concert, and attack vice at its opposite poles. While the economists

perform their task in uprooting prejudice, stimulating just and

necessary opposition, studying and exposing the real nature of actions

and things, let the religious moralist, on his part, perform his more

attractive, but more difficult, labor; let him attack the very body of

iniquity, follow it to its most vital parts, paint the charms of

beneficence, self-denial and devotion, open the fountains of virtue

where we can only choke the sources of vice--this is his duty. It is

noble and beautiful. But why does he dispute the utility of that which

belongs to us?

In a society which, though not superlatively virtuous, should

nevertheless be regulated by the influences of _economical morality_

(which is the knowledge of the economy of society), would there not be a

field for the progress of religious morality?

Habit, it has been said, is a second nature. A country where the

individual had become unaccustomed to injustice, simply by the force of

an enlightened public opinion, might, indeed, be pitiable; but it seems

to me it would be well prepared to receive an education more elevated

and more pure. To be disaccustomed to evil is a great step towards

becoming good. Men cannot remain stationary. Turned aside from the paths

of vice which would lead only to infamy, they appreciate better the

attractions of virtue. Possibly it may be necessary for society to pass

through this prosaic state, where men practice virtue by calculation, to

be thence elevated to that more poetic region where they will no longer

have need of such an exercise.

III.

THE TWO HATCHETS.

_Petition of Jacques Bonhomme, Carpenter, to M. Cunin-Gridaine, Minister

of Commerce._

MR. MANUFACTURER-MINISTER: I am a carpenter, as was Jesus; I handle the

hatchet and the plane to serve you.

In chopping and splitting from morning until night in the domain of my

lord, the King, the idea has occurred to me that my labor was as much

_national_ as yours.

And accordingly I don't understand why protection should not visit my

shop as well as your manufactory.

For indeed, if you make cloths, I make roofs. Both by different means

protect our patrons from cold and rain. But I have to run after

customers while business seeks you. You know how to manage this by

obtaining a monopoly, while my business is open to any one who chooses

to engage in it.

What is there astonishing in this? Mr. Cunin, the Cabinet Minister, has

not forgotten Mr. Cunin, the manufacturer, as was very natural. But

unfortunately, my humble occupation has not given a Minister to France,

although it has given a Saviour to the world.

And this Saviour, in the immortal code which he bequeathed to men, did

not utter the smallest word by virtue of which carpenters might feel

authorized to enrich themselves as you do at the expense of others.

Look, then, at my position. I earn thirty cents every day, excepts

Sundays and holidays. If I apply to you for work at the same time with a

Flemish workman, you give him the preference.

But I need clothing. If a Belgian weaver puts his cloth beside yours,

you drive both him and his cloth out of the country. Consequently,

forced to buy at your shop, where it is dearest, my poor thirty cents

are really worth only twenty-eight.

What did I say? They are worth only twenty-six. For, instead of driving

the Belgian weaver away at _your own expense_ (which would be the least

you could do) you compel me to pay those who, in your interest, force

him out of the market.

And since a large number of your fellow-legislators, with whom you seem

to have an excellent understanding, take away from me a cent or two

each, under pretext of protecting somebody's coal, or oil, or wheat,

when the balance is struck, I find that of my thirty cents I have only

fifteen left from the pillage.

Possibly, you may answer that those few pennies which pass thus, without

compensation, from my pocket to yours, support a number of people about

your _chateau_, and at the same time assist you in keeping up your

establishment. To which, if you would permit me, I would reply, they

would likewise support a number of persons in my cottage.

However this may be, Hon. Minister-Manufacturer, knowing that I should

meet with a cold reception were I to ask you to renounce the restriction

imposed upon your customers, as I have a right to, I prefer to follow

the fashion, and to demand for myself, also, a little morsel of

_protection_.

To this, doubtless you will interpose some objections. "Friend," you

will say, "I would be glad to protect you and your colleagues; but how

can I confer such favors upon the labor of carpenters? Shall I prohibit

the importation of houses by land and by sea?"

This would seem sufficiently ridiculous, but by giving much thought to

the subject, I have discovered a way to protect the children of St.

Joseph, and you will, I trust, the more readily grant it since it

differs in no respect from the privilege which you vote for yourself

every year. This wonderful way is to prohibit the use of sharp hatchets

in France.

I say that this restriction would be neither more illogical nor

arbitrary than that which you subject us to in regard to your cloth.

Why do you drive away the Belgians? Because they sell cheaper than you

do. And why do they sell cheaper than you do? Because they are in some

way or another your superiors as manufacturers.

Between you and the Belgians, then, there is exactly the same difference

that there is between a dull hatchet and a sharp one. And you compel me,

a carpenter, to buy the workmanship of your dull hatchet!

Consider France a laborer, obliged to live by his daily toil, and

desiring, among other things, to purchase cloth. There are two means of

doing this. The first is to card the wool and weave the cloth himself;

the second is to manufacture clocks, or wines, or wall-paper, or

something of the sort, and exchange them in Belgium for cloth.

The process which gives the larger result may be represented by the

sharp hatchet; the other process by the dull one.

You will not deny that at the present day in France it is more difficult

to manufacture cloth than to cultivate the vine--the former is the dull

hatchet, the latter the sharp one--on the contrary, you make this

greater difficulty the very reason why you recommend to us the worst of

the two hatchets.

Now, then, be consistent, if you will not be just, and treat the poor

carpenters as well as you treat yourself. Make a law which shall read:

"It is forbidden to use beams or shingles which have not been fashioned

by dull hatchets."

And you will immediately perceive the result.

Where we now strike an hundred blows with the ax, we shall be obliged to

give three hundred. What a powerful encouragement to industry!

Apprentices, journeymen and masters, we should suffer no more. We should

be greatly sought after, and go away well paid. Whoever wishes to enjoy

a roof must leave us to make his tariff, just as buyers of cloth are now

obliged to submit to you.

As for those free trade theorists, should they ever venture to call the

utility of this system in question we should know where to go for an

unanswerable argument. Your investigation of 1834 is at our service. We

should fight them with that, for there you have admirably pleaded the

cause of prohibition, and of dull hatchets, which are both the same.

IV.

INFERIOR COUNCIL OF LABOR.

"What! You have the assurance to demand for every citizen the right to

buy, sell, trade, exchange, and to render service for service according

to his own discretion, on the sole condition that he will conduct

himself honestly, and not defraud the revenue? Would you rob the

workingman of his labor, his wages and his bread?"

This is what is said to us. I know what the general opinion is; but I

have desired to know what the laborers themselves think. I have had an

excellent opportunity of finding out.

It was not one of those _Superior Councils of Industry_ (Committee on

the Revision of the Tariff), where large manufacturers, who style

themselves laborers, influential ship-builders who imagine themselves

seamen, and wealthy bondholders who think themselves workmen, meet and

legislate in behalf of that philanthropy with whose nature we are so

well acquainted.

No, they were workmen "to the manor born," real, practical laborers,

such as joiners, carpenters, masons, tailors, shoemakers, blacksmiths,

grocers, etc., etc., who had established in my village a _Mutual Aid

Society_. Upon my own private authority I transformed it into an

_Inferior Council of Labor_ (People's Committee for Revising the

Tariff), and I obtained a report which is as good as any other, although

unencumbered by figures, and not distended to the proportions of a

quarto volume and printed at the expense of the State.

The subject of my inquiry was the real or supposed influence of the

protective system upon these poor people. The President, indeed,

informed me that the institution of such an inquiry was somewhat in

contravention of the principles of the society. For, in France, the land

of liberty, those who desire to form associations must renounce

political discussions--that is to say, the discussion of their common

interests. However, after much hesitation, he made the question the

order of the day.

The assembly was divided into as many sub-committees as there were

different trades represented. A blank was handed to each sub-committee,

which, after fifteen days' discussion, was to be filled and returned.

On the appointed day the venerable President took the chair (official

style, for it was only a stool) and found upon the table (official

style, again, for it was a deal plank across a barrel) a dozen reports,

which he read in succession.

The first presented was that of the tailors. Here it is, as accurately

as if it had been photographed:

RESULTS OF PROTECTION--REPORT OF THE TAILORS.

_Disadvantages._ |_Advantages._

|

1. On account of the protective tariff, we pay | None.

more for our own bread, meat, sugar, thread, |

etc., which is equivalent to a considerable | 1. We have examined

diminution of our wages. | the question in

| every light, and

2. On account of the protective tariff, our patrons | have been unable to

are also obliged to pay more for everything, and | perceive a single

have less to spend for clothes, consequently we | point in regard to

have less work and smaller profits. | which the protective

| system is

3. On account of the protective tariff, clothes | advantageous to

are expensive, and people make them wear longer, | our trade.

which results in a loss of work, and compels us to |

offer our services at greatly reduced rates. |

Here is another report:

EFFECTS OF PROTECTION--REPORT OF THE BLACKSMITHS.

_Disadvantages._ | _Advantages._

|

1. The protective system imposes a tax (which does |

not get into the Treasury) every time we eat, drink, |

warm, or clothe ourselves. |

|

2. It imposes a similar tax upon our neighbors, and |

hence, having less money, most of them use wooden |

pegs, instead of buying nails, which deprives us of |

labor. |

|

3. It keeps the price of iron so high that it can | None.

no longer be used in the country for plows, or gates,|

or house fixtures, and our trade, which might give |

work to so many who have none, does not even give |

ourselves enough to do. |

|

4. The deficit occasioned in the Treasury by those |

goods _which do not enter_ is made up by taxes |

on our salt. |

The other reports, with which I will not trouble the reader, told the

same story. Gardeners, carpenters, shoemakers, boatmen, all complained

of the same grievances.

I am sorry there were no day laborers in our association. Their report

would certainly have been exceedingly instructive. But, unfortunately,

the poor laborers of our province, all _protected_ as they are, have not

a cent, and, after having taken care of their cattle, cannot go

themselves to the _Mutual Aid Society_. The pretended favors of

protection do not prevent them from being the pariahs of modern society.

What I would especially remark is the good sense with which our

villagers have perceived not only the direct evil results of protection,

but also the indirect evil which, affecting their patrons, reacts upon

themselves.

This is a fact, it seems to me, which the economists of the school of

the _Moniteur Industriel_ do not understand.

And possibly some men, who are fascinated by a very little protection,

the agriculturists, for instance, would voluntarily renounce it if they

noticed this side of the question. Possibly, they might say to

themselves: "It is better to support one's self surrounded by well-to-do

neighbors, than to be protected in the midst of poverty." For to seek to

encourage every branch of industry by successively creating a void

around them, is as vain as to attempt to jump away from one's shadow.

V.

DEARNESS--CHEAPNESS.

I consider it my duty to say a few words in regard to the delusion

caused by the words _dear_ and _cheap_. At the first glance, I am aware,

you may be disposed to find these remarks somewhat subtile, but whether

subtile or not, the question is whether they are true. For my part I

consider them perfectly true, and particularly well adapted to cause

reflection among a large number of those who cherish a sincere faith in

the efficacy of protection.

Whether advocates of free trade or defenders of protection, we are all

obliged to make use of the expression _dearness_ and _cheapness_. The

former take sides in behalf of _cheapness_, having in view the interests

of consumers. The latter pronounce themselves in favor of _dearness_,

preoccupying themselves solely with the interests of the producer.

Others intervene, saying, _producer and consumer are one and the same_,

which leaves wholly undecided the question whether cheapness or dearness

ought to be the object of legislation.

In this conflict of opinion it seems to me that there is only one

position for the law to take--to allow prices to regulate themselves

naturally. But the principle of "let alone" has obstinate enemies. They

insist upon legislation without even knowing the desired objects of

legislation. It would seem, however, to be the duty of those who wish to

create high or low prices artificially, to state, and to substantiate,

the reasons of their preference. The burden of proof is upon them.

Liberty is always considered beneficial until the contrary is proved,

and to allow prices naturally to regulate themselves is liberty. But the

_roles_ have been changed. The partisans of high prices have obtained a

triumph for their system, and it has fallen to defenders of natural

prices to prove the advantages of their system. The argument on both

sides is conducted with two words. It is very essential, then, to

understand their meaning.

It must be granted at the outset that a series of events have happened

well calculated to disconcert both sides.

In order to produce _high prices_ the protectionists have obtained high

tariffs, and still low prices have come to disappoint their

expectations.

In order to produce _low prices_, free traders have sometimes carried

their point, and, to their great astonishment, the result in some

instances has been an increase instead of a reduction in prices.

For instance, in France, to protect farmers, a law was passed imposing a

duty of twenty-two per cent. upon imported wools, and the result has

been that native wools have been sold for much lower prices than before

the passage of the law.

In England a law in behalf of the consumers was passed, exempting

foreign wools from duty, and the consequence has been that native wools

have sold higher than ever before.

And this is not an isolated fact, for the price of wool has no special

or peculiar nature which takes it out of the general law governing

prices. The same fact has been reproduced under analogous circumstances.

Contrary to all expectation, protection has frequently resulted in low

prices, and free trade in high prices. Hence there has been a deal of

perplexity in the discussion, the protectionists saying to their

adversaries: "These low prices that you talk about so much are the

result of our system;" and the free traders replying: "Those high prices

which you find so profitable are the consequence of free trade."

There evidently is a misunderstanding, an illusion, which must be

dispelled. This I will endeavor to do.

Suppose two isolated nations, each composed of a million inhabitants;

admit that, other things being equal, one nation had exactly twice as

much of everything as the other--twice as much wheat, wine, iron, fuel,

books, clothing, furniture, etc. It will be conceded that one will have

twice as much wealth as the other.

There is, however, no reason for the statement that the _absolute

prices_ are different in the two nations. They possibly may be higher in

the wealthiest nation. It may happen that in the United States

everything is nominally dearer than in Poland, and that, nevertheless,

the people there are less generally supplied with everything; by which

it may be seen that the abundance of products, and not the absolute

price, constitutes wealth. In order, then, accurately to compare free

trade and protection the inquiry should not be which of the two causes

high prices or low prices, but which of the two produces abundance or

scarcity.

For observe this: Products are exchanged, the one for the other, and a

relative scarcity and a relative abundance leave the absolute price

exactly at the same point, but not so the condition of men.

Let us look into the subject a little further.

Since the increase and the reduction of duties have been accompanied by

results so different from what had been expected, a fall of prices

frequently succeeding the increase of the tariff, and a rise sometimes

following a reduction of duties, it has become necessary for political

economy to attempt the explanation of a phenomenon which so overthrows

received ideas; for, whatever may be said, science is simply a faithful

exposition and a true explanation of facts.

This phenomenon may be easily explained by one circumstance which should

never be lost sight of.

It is that there are _two causes_ for high prices, and not one merely.

The same is true of low prices. One of the best established principles

of political economy is that price is determined by the law of supply

and demand.

The price is then affected by two conditions--the demand and the supply.

These conditions are necessarily subject to variation. The relations of

demand to supply may be exactly counterbalanced, or may be greatly

disproportionate, and the variations of price are almost interminable.

Prices rise either on account of augmented demand or diminished supply.

They fall by reason of an augmentation of the supply or a diminution of

the demand.

Consequently there are two kinds of _dearness_ and two kinds of

_cheapness_. There is a bad dearness, which results from a diminution of

the supply; for this implies scarcity and privation. There is a good

dearness--that which results from an increase of demand; for this

indicates the augmentation of the general wealth.

There is also a good cheapness, resulting from abundance. And there is a

baneful cheapness--such as results from the cessation of demand, the

inability of consumers to purchase.

And observe this: Prohibition causes at the same time both the dearness

and the cheapness which are of a bad nature; a bad dearness, resulting

from a diminution of the supply (this indeed is its avowed object), and

a bad cheapness, resulting from a diminution of the demand, because it

gives a false direction to capital and labor, and overwhelms consumers

with taxes and restrictions.

So that, _as regards the price_, these two tendencies neutralize each

other; and for this reason, the protective system, restricting the

supply and the demand at the same time, does not realize the high

prices which are its object.

But with respect to the condition of the people, these two tendencies do

not neutralize each other; on the contrary, they unite in impoverishing

them.

The effect of free trade is exactly the opposite. Possibly it does not

cause the cheapness which it promises; for it also has two tendencies,

the one towards that desirable form of cheapness resulting from the

increase of supply, or from abundance; the other towards that dearness

consequent upon the increased demand and the development of the general

wealth. These two tendencies neutralize themselves as regards the _mere

price_; but they concur in their tendency to ameliorate the condition of

mankind. In a word, under the protective system men recede towards a

condition of feebleness as regards both supply and demand; under the

free trade system, they advance towards a condition where development is

gradual without any necessary increase in the absolute prices of things.

Price is not a good criterion of wealth. It might continue the same when

society had relapsed into the most abject misery, or had advanced to a

high state of prosperity.

Let me make application of this doctrine in a few words: A farmer in the

south of France supposes himself as rich as Croesus, because he is

protected by law from foreign competition. He is as poor as Job--no

matter, he will none the less suppose that this protection will sooner

or later make him rich. Under these circumstances, if the question was

propounded to him, as it was by the committee of the Legislature, in

these terms: "Do you want to be subject to foreign competition? yes or

no," his first answer would be "No," and the committee would record his

reply with great enthusiasm.

We should go, however, to the bottom of things. Doubtless foreign

competition, and competition of any kind, is always inopportune; and, if

any trade could be permanently rid of it, business, for a time, would be

prosperous.

But protection is not an isolated favor. It is a system. If, in order to

protect the farmer, it occasions a scarcity of wheat and of beef, in

behalf of other industries it produces a scarcity of iron, cloth, fuel,

tools, etc.--in short, a scarcity of everything.

If, then, the scarcity of wheat has a tendency to increase the price by

reason of the diminution of the supply, the scarcity of all other

products for which wheat is exchanged has likewise a tendency to

depreciate the value of wheat on account of a falling off of the demand;

so that it is by no means certain that wheat will be a mill dearer under

a protective tariff than under a system of free trade. This alone is

certain, that inasmuch as there is a smaller amount of everything in the

country, each individual will be more poorly provided with everything.

The farmer would do well to consider whether it would not be more

desirable for him to allow the importation of wheat and beef, and, as a

consequence, to be surrounded by a well-to-do community, able to consume

and to pay for every agricultural product.

There is a certain province where the men are covered with rags, dwell

in hovels, and subsist on chestnuts. How can agriculture flourish there?

What can they make the earth produce, with the expectation of profit?

Meat? They eat none. Milk? They drink only the water of springs. Butter?

It is an article of luxury far beyond them. Wool? They get along without

it as much as possible. Can any one imagine that all these objects of

consumption can be thus left untouched by the masses, without lowering

prices?

That which we say of a farmer, we can say of a manufacturer.

Cloth-makers assert that foreign competition will lower prices owing to

the increased quantity offered. Very well, but are not these prices

raised by the increase of the demand? Is the consumption of cloth a

fixed and invariable quantity? Is each one as well provided with it as

he might and should be? And if the general wealth were developed by the

abolition of all these taxes and hindrances, would not the first use

made of it by the population be to clothe themselves better?

Therefore the question, the eternal question, is not whether protection

favors this or that special branch of industry, but whether, all things

considered, restriction is, in its nature, more profitable than freedom?

Now, no person can maintain that proposition. And just this explains the

admission which our opponents continually make to us: "You are right on

principle."

If that is true, if restriction aids each special industry only through

a greater injury to the general prosperity, let us understand, then,

that the price itself, considering that alone, expresses a relation

between each special industry and the general industry, between the

supply and the demand, and that, reasoning from these premises, this

_remunerative price_ (the object of protection) is more hindered than

favored by it.

APPENDIX.

We published an article entitled _Dearness-Cheapness_, which gained for

us the two following letters. We publish them, with the answers:

"DEAR MR. EDITOR:--You upset all my ideas. I preached in favor of

free trade, and found it very convenient to put prominently forward

the idea of _cheapness_. I went everywhere, saying, "With free trade,

bread, meat, woolens, linen, iron and coal will fall in price." This

displeased those who sold, but delighted those who bought. Now, you

raise a doubt as to whether _cheapness_ is the result of free trade.

But if not, of what use is it? What will the people gain, if foreign

competition, which may interfere with them in their sales, does not

favor them in their purchases?"

MY DEAR FREE TRADER:--Allow us to say that you have but half read the

article which provoked your letter. We said that free trade acted

precisely like roads, canals and railways, like everything which

facilitates communications, and like everything which destroys

obstacles. Its first tendency is to increase the quantity of the article

which is relieved from duties, and consequently to lower its price. But

by increasing, at the same time, the quantity of all the things for

which this article is exchanged, it increases the _demand_, and

consequently the price rises. You ask us what the people will gain.

Suppose they have a balance with certain scales, in each one of which

they have for their use a certain quantity of the articles which you

have enumerated. If a little grain is put in one scale it will gradually

sink, but if an equal quantity of cloth, iron and coal is added in the

others, the equilibrium will be maintained. Looking at the beam above,

there will be no change. Looking at the people, we shall see them better

fed, clothed and warmed.

"DEAR MR. EDITOR:--I am a cloth manufacturer, and a protectionist. I

confess that your article on _dearness_ and _cheapness_ has led me to

reflect. It has something specious about it, and if well proven,

would work my conversion."

MY DEAR PROTECTIONIST:--We say that the end and aim of your restrictive

measures is a wrongful one--_artificial dearness_. But we do not say

that they always realize the hopes of those who initiate them. It is

certain that they inflict on the consumer all the evils of dearness. It

is not certain that the producer gets the profit. Why? Because if they

diminish the supply they also diminish the _demand_.

This proves that in the economical arrangement of this world there is a

moral force, a _vis medicatrix_, which in the long run causes inordinate

ambition to become the prey of a delusion.

Pray, notice, sir, that one of the elements of the prosperity of each

special branch of industry is the general prosperity. The rent of a

house is not merely in proportion to what it has cost, but also to the

number and means of the tenants. Do two houses which are precisely alike

necessarily rent for the same sum? Certainly not, if one is in Paris and

the other in Lower Brittany. Let us never speak of a price without

regarding the _conditions_, and let us understand that there is nothing

more futile than to try to build the prosperity of the parts on the ruin

of the whole. This is the attempt of the restrictive system.

Competition always has been, and always will be, disagreeable to those

who are affected by it. Thus we see that in all times and in all places

men try to get rid of it. We know, and you too, perhaps, a municipal

council where the resident merchants make a furious war on the foreign

ones. Their projectiles are import duties, fines, etc., etc.

Now, just think what would have become of Paris, for instance, if this

war had been carried on there with success.

Suppose that the first shoemaker who settled there had succeeded in

keeping out all others, and that the first tailor, the first mason, the

first printer, the first watchmaker, the first hair-dresser, the first

physician, the first baker, had been equally fortunate. Paris would

still be a village, with twelve or fifteen hundred inhabitants. But it

was not thus. Each one, except those whom you still keep away, came to

make money in this market, and that is precisely what has built it up.

It has been a long series of collisions for the enemies of competition,

and from one collision after another, Paris has become a city of a

million inhabitants. The general prosperity has gained by this,

doubtless, but have the shoemakers and tailors, individually, lost

anything by it? For you, this is the question. As competitors came, you

said: The price of boots will fail. Has it been so? No, for if the

_supply_ has increased, the _demand_ has increased also.

Thus will it be with cloth; therefore let it come in. It is true that

you will have more competitors, but you will also have more customers,

and richer ones. Did you never think of this when seeing nine-tenths of

your countrymen deprived during the winter of that superior cloth that

you make?

This is not a very long lesson to learn. If you wish to prosper, let

your customers do the same.

When this is once known, each one will seek his welfare in the general

welfare. Then, jealousies between individuals, cities, provinces and

nations, will no longer vex the world.

VI.

TO ARTISANS AND LABORERS.

Many papers have attacked me before you. Will you not read my defense?

I am not mistrustful. When a man writes or speaks, I believe that he

thinks what he says.

What is the question? To ascertain which is the more advantageous for

you, restriction or liberty.

I believe that it is liberty; they believe it is restriction; it is for

each one to prove his case.

Was it necessary to insinuate that we are the agents of England?

You will see how easy recrimination would be on this ground.

We are, they say, agents of the English, because some of us have used

the English words _meeting_, _free trader_!

And do not they use the English words _drawback_ and _budget_?

We imitate Cobden and the English democracy!

Do not they parody Bentinck and the British aristocracy?

We borrow from perfidious Albion the doctrine of liberty.

Do not they borrow from her the sophisms of protection?

We follow the commercial impulse of Bordeaux and the South.

Do not they serve the greed of Lille, and the manufacturing North?

We favor the secret designs of the ministry, which desires to turn

public attention away from the protective policy.

Do not they favor the views of the Custom House officers, who gain more

than anybody else by this protective _regime_?

So you see that if we did not ignore this war of epithets, we should not

be without weapons.

But that is not the point in issue.

The question which I shall not lose sight of is this:

_Which is better for the working-classes, to be free or not to be free

to purchase from abroad?_

Workmen, they say to you, "If you are free to buy from abroad these

things which you now make yourselves, you will no longer make them. You

will be without work, without wages, and without bread. It is then for

your own good that your liberty be restricted."

This objection recurs in all forms. They say, for instance, "If we

clothe ourselves with English cloth, if we make our plowshares with

English iron, if we cut our bread with English knives, if we wipe our

hands with English napkins, what will become of the French workmen--what

will become of the _national labor_?"

Tell me, workmen, if a man stood on the pier at Boulogne, and said to

every Englishman who landed: If you will give me those English boots, I

will give you this French hat; or, if you will let me have this English

horse, I will let you have this French carriage; or, Are you willing to

exchange this Birmingham machine for this Paris clock? or, again, Does

it suit you to barter your Newcastle coal for this Champagne wine? I ask

you whether, supposing this man makes his proposals with average

judgment, it can be said that our _national labor_, taken as a whole,

would be harmed by it?

Would it be more so if there were twenty of these people offering to

exchange services at Boulogne instead of one; if a million barters were

made instead of four; and if the intervention of merchants and money was

called on to facilitate them and multiply them indefinitely?

Now, let one country buy of another at wholesale to sell again at

retail, or at retail to sell again at wholesale, it will always be

found, if the matter is followed out to the end, that _commerce consists

of mutual barter of products for products, of services for services_.

If, then, _one barter_ does not injure the _national labor_, since it

implies as much _national labor given_ as _foreign labor received_, a

hundred million of them cannot hurt the country.

But, you will say, where is the advantage? The advantage consists in

making a better use of the resources of each country, so that the same

amount of labor gives more satisfaction and well-being everywhere.

There are some who employ singular tactics against you. They begin by

admitting the superiority of freedom over the prohibitive system,

doubtless in order that they may not have to defend themselves on that

ground.

Next they remark that in going from one system to another there will be

some _displacement_ of labor.

Then they dilate upon the sufferings which, according to themselves,

this _displacement_ must cause. They exaggerate and amplify them; they

make of them the principal subject of discussion; they present them as

the exclusive and definite result of reform, and thus try to enlist you

under the standard of monopoly.

These tactics have been employed in the service of all abuses, and I

must frankly admit one thing, that it always embarrasses even the

friends of those reforms which are most useful to the people. You will

understand why.

When an abuse exists, everything arranges itself upon it.

Human existences connect themselves with it, others with these, then

still others, and this forms a great edifice.

Do you raise your hand against it? Each one protests; and notice this

particularly, those persons who protest always seem at the first glance

to be right, because it is easier to show the disorder which must

accompany the reform than the order which will follow it.

The friends of the abuse cite particular instances; they name the

persons and their workmen who will be disturbed, while the poor devil of

a reformer can only refer to the _general good_, which must insensibly

diffuse itself among the masses. This does not have the effect which the

other has.

Thus, supposing it is a question of abolishing slavery. "Unhappy

people," they say to the colored men, "who will feed you? The master

distributes floggings, but he also distributes rations."

It is not seen that it is not the master who feeds the slave, but his

own labor which feeds both himself and master.

When the convents of Spain were reformed, they said to the beggars,

"Where will you find broth and clothing? The Abbot is your providence.

Is it not very convenient to apply to him?"

And the beggars said: "That is true. If the Abbot goes, we see what we

lose, but we do not see what will come in its place."

They do not notice that if the convents gave alms they lived on alms, so

that the people had to give them more than they could receive back.

Thus, workmen, a monopoly imperceptibly puts taxes on your shoulders,

and then furnishes you work with the proceeds.

Your false friends say to you: If there was no monopoly, who would

furnish you work?

You answer: This is true, this is true. The labor which the monopolists

procure us is certain. The promises of liberty are uncertain.

For you do not see that they first take money from you, and then give

you back a _part_ of it for your labor.

Do you ask who will furnish you work? Why, you will give each other

work. With the money which will no longer be taken from you, the

shoemaker will dress better, and will make work for the tailor. The

tailor will have new shoes oftener, and keep the shoemaker employed. So

it will be with all occupations.

They say that with freedom there will be fewer workmen in the mines and

the mills.

I do not believe it. But if this does happen, it is _necessarily_

because there will be more labor freely in the open air.

For if, as they say, these mines and spinning mills can be sustained

only by the aid of taxes imposed on _everybody_ for their benefit, these

taxes once abolished, _everybody_ will be more comfortably off, and it

is the comfort of all which feeds the labor of each one.

Excuse me if I linger at this demonstration. I have so great a desire to

see you on the side of liberty.

In France, capital invested in manufactures yields, I suppose, five per

cent. profit. But here is Mondor, who has one hundred thousand francs

invested in a manufactory, on which he loses five per cent. The

difference between the loss and gain is ten thousand francs. What do

they do? They assess upon you a little tax of ten thousand francs, which

is given to Mondor, and you do not notice it, for it is very skillfully

disguised. It is not the tax gatherer who comes to ask you your part of

the tax, but you pay it to Mondor, the manufacturer, every time you buy

your hatchets, your trowels, and your planes. Then they say to you: If

you do not pay this tax, Mondor can work no longer, and his employes,

John and James, will be without labor. If this tax was remitted, would

you not get work yourselves, and on your own account too?

And, then, be easy, when Mondor has no longer this soft method of

obtaining his profit by a tax, he will use his wits to turn his loss

into a gain, and John and James will not be dismissed. Then all will be

profit _for all_.

You will persist, perhaps, saying: "We understand that after the reform

there will be in general more work than before, but in the meanwhile

John and James will be on the street."

To which I answer:

First. When employment changes its place only to increase, the man who

has two arms and a heart is not long on the street.

Second. There is nothing to hinder the State from reserving some of its

funds to avoid stoppages of labor in the transition, which I do not

myself believe will occur.

Third. Finally, if to get out of a rut and get into a condition which is

better for all, and which is certainly more just, it is absolutely

necessary to brave a few painful moments, the workmen are ready, or I

know them ill. God grant that it may be the same with employers.

Well, because you are workmen, are you not intelligent and moral? It

seems that your pretended friends forget it. It is surprising that they

discuss such a subject before you, speaking of wages and interests,

without once pronouncing the word _justice_. They know, however, full

well that the situation is _unjust_. Why, then, have they not the

courage to tell you so, and say, "Workmen, an iniquity prevails in the

country, but it is of advantage to you and it must be sustained." Why?

Because they know that you would answer, No.

But it is not true that this iniquity is profitable to you. Give me your

attention for a few moments and judge for yourselves.

What do they protect in France? Articles made by great manufacturers in

great establishments, iron, cloth and silks, and they tell you that this

is done not in the interest of the employer, but in your interest, in

order to insure you wages.

But every time that foreign labor presents itself in the market in such

a form that it may hurt _you_, but not the great manufacturers, do they

not allow it to come in?

Are there not in Paris thirty thousand Germans who make clothes and

shoes? Why are they allowed to establish themselves at your side when

cloth is driven away? Because the cloth is made in great mills owned by

manufacturing legislators. But clothes are made by workmen in their

rooms.

These gentlemen want no competition in the turning of wool into cloth,

because that is _their_ business; but when it comes to converting cloth

into clothes, they admit competition, because that is _your_ trade.

When they made railroads they excluded English rails, but they imported

English workmen to make them. Why? It is very simple; because English

rails compete with the great rolling mills, and English muscles compete

only with yours.

We do not ask them to keep out German tailors and English laborers. We

ask that cloth and rails may be allowed to come in. We ask justice for

all, equality before the law for all.

It is a mockery to tell us that these Custom House restrictions have

_your_ advantage in view. Tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, millers,

masons, blacksmiths, merchants, grocers, jewelers, butchers, bakers and

dressmakers, I challenge you to show me a single instance in which

restriction profits you, and if you wish, I will point out four where it

hurts you.

And after all, just see how much of the appearance of truth this

self-denial, which your journals attribute to the monopolists, has.

I believe that we can call that the _natural rate of wages_ which would

establish itself _naturally_ if there were freedom of trade. Then, when

they tell you that restriction is for your benefit, it is as if they

told you that it added a _surplus_ to your _natural_ wages. Now, an

_extra natural_ surplus of wages must be taken from somewhere; it does

not fall from the moon; it must be taken from those who pay it.

You are then brought to this conclusion, that, according to your

pretended friends, the protective system has been created and brought

into the world in order that capitalists might be sacrificed to

laborers!

Tell me, is that probable?

Where is your place in the Chamber of Peers? When did you sit at the

Palais Bourbon? Who has consulted you? Whence came this idea of

establishing the protective system?

I hear your answer: _We_ did not establish it. We are neither Peers nor

Deputies, nor Counselors of State. The capitalists have done it.

By heavens, they were in a delectable mood that day. What! the

capitalists made this law; _they_ established the prohibitive system, so

that you laborers should make profits at their expense!

But here is something stranger still.

How is it that your pretended friends who speak to you now of the

goodness, generosity and self-denial of capitalists, constantly express

regret that you do not enjoy your political rights? From their point of

view, what could you do with them? The capitalists have the monopoly of

legislation, it is true. Thanks to this monopoly, they have granted

themselves the monopoly of iron, cloth, coal, wood and meat, which is

also true. But now your pretended friends say that the capitalists, in

acting thus, have stripped themselves, without being obliged to do it,

to enrich you without your being entitled to it. Surely, if you were

electors and deputies, you could not manage your affairs better; you

would not even manage them as well.

If the industrial organization which rules us is made in your interest,

it is a perfidy to demand political rights for you; for these democrats

of a new species can never get out of this dilemma; the law, made by the

present law-makers, gives you _more_, or gives you _less_, than your

natural wages. If it gives you _less_, they deceive you in inviting you

to support it. If it gives you _more_, they deceive you again by calling

on you to claim political rights, when those who now exercise them, make

sacrifices for you which you, in your honesty, could not yourselves

vote.

Workingmen, God forbid that the effect of this article should be to cast

in your hearts the germs of irritation against the rich. If mistaken

_interests_ still support monopoly, let us not forget that it has its

root in _errors_, which are common to capitalists and workmen. Then, far

from laboring to excite them against one another, let us strive to bring

them together. What must be done to accomplish this? If it is true that

the natural social tendencies aid in effacing inequality among men, all

we have to do to let those tendencies act is to remove the artificial

obstructions which interfere with their operation, and allow the

relations of different classes to establish themselves on the principle

of _justice_, which, to my mind, is the principle of FREEDOM.

VII.

A CHINESE STORY.

They exclaim against the greed and the selfishness of the age!

Open the thousand books, the thousand papers, the thousand pamphlets,

which the Parisian presses throw out every day on the country; is not

all this the work of little saints?

What spirit in the painting of the vices of the time! What touching

tenderness for the masses! With what liberality they invite the rich to

divide with the poor, or the poor to divide with the rich! How many

plans of social reform, social improvement, and social organization!

Does not even the weakest writer devote himself to the well-being of the

laboring classes? All that is required is to advance them a little money

to give them time to attend to their humanitarian pursuits.

There is nothing which does not assume to aid in the well-being and

moral advancement of the people--nothing, not even the Custom House. You

believe that it is a tax machine, like a duty or a toll at the end of a

bridge? Not at all. It is an essentially civilizing, fraternizing and

equalizing institution. What would you have? It is the fashion. It is

necessary to put or affect to put feeling or sentimentality everywhere,

even in the cure of all troubles.

But it must be admitted that the Custom House organization has a

singular way of going to work to realize these philanthropic

aspirations.

It puts on foot an army of collectors, assistant collectors, inspectors,

assistant inspectors, cashiers, accountants, receivers, clerks,

supernumeraries, tide-waiters, and all this in order to exercise on the

industry of the people that negative action which is summed up in the

word _to prevent_.

Observe that I do not say _to tax_, but really _to prevent_.

And _to prevent_, not acts reproved by morality, or opposed to public

order, but transactions which are innocent, and which they have even

admitted are favorable to the peace and harmony of nations.

However, humanity is so flexible and supple that, in one way or another,

it always overcomes these attempts at prevention.

It is for the purpose of increasing labor. If people are kept from

getting their food from abroad they produce it at home. It is more

laborious, but they must live. If they are kept from passing along the

valley, they must climb the mountains. It is longer, but the point of

destination must be reached.

This is sad, but amusing. When the law has thus created a certain amount

of obstacles, and when, to overcome them, humanity has diverted a

corresponding amount of labor, you are no longer allowed to call for the

reform of the law; for, if you point out the _obstacle_, they show you

the labor which it brings into play; and if you say this is not labor

created but _diverted_, they answer you as does the _Esprit

Public_--"The impoverishing only is certain and immediate; as for the

enriching, it is more than problematical."

This recalls to me a Chinese story, which I will tell you.

There were in China two great cities, Tchin and Tchan. A magnificent

canal connected them. The Emperor thought fit to have immense masses of

rock thrown into it, to make it useless.

Seeing this, Kouang, his first Mandarin, said to him: "Son of Heaven,

you make a mistake." To which the Emperor replied: "Kouang, you are

foolish."